


Faenar Lavellan/Dorian Pavus Drabbles

by Feena_c



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Mostly Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-26
Packaged: 2021-01-27 17:33:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21395998
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Feena_c/pseuds/Feena_c
Summary: Drabbles following my Dalish Inquisitor Faenar Lavellan and his friendship turned romance with Dorian Pavus.  Plot discussions, fluff and feels abound.
Relationships: Lavellan/Dorian Pavus, Male Inquisitor/Dorian Pavus, Male Lavellan/Dorian Pavus
Kudos: 53





	1. Shared History

Faenar approached the alcove Dorian had adopted as his workspace carefully, trying to get a view of the man before he was spotted. He wanted to get a read on him. He’d seemed at least all right last evening when Faenar had left him. Well; all right being that Dorian had declared he was doing to get drunk and try not to think about his father for a while. Faenar wasn’t certain if Dorian would be back to acting like his usual self today or if he might still be distressed. Faenar slowed, catching sight of Dorian pulling a book from one of the shelves and appearing to scan through it as if looking for something. At least somewhat back to normal, then. 

“Hello,” Faenar said, making sure his steps weren’t unusually quiet as he approached. 

Dorian looked over his shoulder and smiled. “Afternoon. What brings the mighty Inquisitor up to my library today?” 

Faenar returned the smile. “I… wanted to make sure you were all right after… well.”

“Ah.” Dorian’s expression went serious. “I’m not in danger of soaking the books with my tears or anything. It--... will take some time. I’m not certain how to… begin communicating again frankly.” 

Faenar nodded sympathetically. He knew what it was to be estranged from people you were meant to be close to. “Would you like to talk about it--or have a distraction? Or I can go, if you’d rather,” Faenar added the last hastily. He liked Dorian, a lot, but he knew family was a deeply personal issue, and he’d already seen more than he was probably meant to. 

Dorian’s smile returned. “I’d love a distraction, and you are naturally very distracting so we’re already off to a good start.” Dorian snapped the book he’d been looking at shut and set it aside on a stack of books with bits of paper sticking out of them to mark his progress. “Anything interesting happen after I passed out last night? Any archdemons swoop down on the ramparts?” 

Faenar gave Dorian a wry smile and walked over to sit down on the floor against one of the bookshelves. “Not that I was aware of, at least.” 

Dorian gave Faenar a quizzical look for a moment, then opted to sit down on the floor as well, though he used the chair as a comfortable armrest, propping his elbow on it and resting his cheek against his hand. “Probably not then. If anything remotely inconvenient happens around here people always come running to you straight away. If you slept soundly I’m sure the world was sleeping soundly too.” 

Faenar let out a bemused sigh. “Would be nice if I could sleep away the world’s troubles.” 

“Perish the thought. If you did nothing but sleep I wouldn’t get to enjoy watching you flit about skyhold.”

Faenar felt his cheeks get warm. Dorian gave compliments and flattery so naturally, he wished they came so easily to him. 

“I saw you reading the Chant of Light the other day. All the comparisons making you curious?” 

Faenar was pulled from his thoughts by the sudden change in subject. “What? Oh… I mean, yes, and no. I’ve… been interested for a long time.” 

Dorian raised an eyebrow curiously. “Oh? The chant make it out to your clan while it was travelling?” 

Faenar flushed, looking away quickly. “Something like that.” 

Dorian frowned subtly in thought. He’d knocked into something. Curiosity was one of his driving traits, so he pressed on. “There’s a story there,” he said, smiling. His tone turned sing-song. 

Faenar made a face; an attempt at a smile marred with sadness. Dorian’s own smile faded. Oops. He’d knocked into something he oughtn’t to have, perhaps. “Sorry--feel free to tell me to sod off if I’ve stepped in it.” 

Faenar shook his head. “No--it’s alright. It’s not something I hide just… I haven’t talked about it in a while and… sometimes when I don’t think about it for a time I forget and then… sorry I’m rambling.”

“I don’t mind your rambling.” Dorian said genuinely. 

Faenar relaxed slightly. “Well… to answer your question, yes, I am a little familiar with the Chant from… before. My clan moved around a lot of course, and we never played host to any travelling chantry folk but… we would often camp in the same place for quite a while in the summer, if the hunting was good. One year, we stayed fairly close to a sh--human town. It had been a good winter for hunting and we had extra furs, the keeper wanted to trade with the town. I volunteered to go. I was curious what the humans lived like, and unlike many of the hunters I had never gotten into any scrapes with any of the human trappers we ran into at times. So she let me.”

Dorian nodded along, prompting Faenar to continue. 

“I… met a man, a couple years younger than me, who was passionate about the Chantry. He wanted to serve--it, and the people of Thedas. We met several times throughout the summer and… he taught me a lot. I was interested…” 

Dorian tilted his head slightly. “In the Chant? Or him?” 

Faenar smiled distantly, somewhat lost in thought. “Both. I… to tell you the truth… I never really believed in the Elven gods. I learned the stories of course but… I always felt it was somehow strange to worship ‘gods’ who had apparently all the problems of normal people. They fought--and were betrayed by their own? That didn’t sound like gods to me. Maerus… he talked about the Maker as if he were…” Faenar gestured vaguely. “Perfect--unspoiled by all the things that make people… well, do terrible things. Like he loved everyone. There was no conflict between him and other gods for power or anything… just him, and us, and our mistakes mucked it up but he still wants to come back to us. Sounded… nice.” 

Dorian pressed his lips together. “Sounds a nicer version than sometimes preached in the Chantry.” The Chantry wasn’t known for its high opinion of elves, or anyone outside its hierarchy. It wasn’t generally known for marketing love, either. Though from the bits he’d picked up, Leliana seemed to have a similar bent in her views. 

Faenar nodded. “Yes, I’ve learned that. Still… something in me still responds to that message and the way he presented it. If nothing else… it’s helped get me this far.” 

Dorian sat up a bit. “So you… do believe? In the Maker? What about Andraste?” Faenar had asked Dorian about his views a time back, when they’d all first arrived in Skyhold, but hadn’t shared his own. Dorian had assumed it idle curiosity, he’d no idea Faenar didn’t follow Dalish religious customs. 

Faenar shrugged one shoulder. He’d pulled his knees up and had his hands wrapped tightly around them. “I… think so. I’m still learning. Whether or not she was divine… I’m not sure what that even means for people who are… just people. But I think she served the Maker.”

“And so do you?” Dorian asked. 

Faenar looked at him, then dropped his eyes. “I suppose I hope I do. If I don’t… I’ve gotten awfully lucky so far.” 

Dorian snorted. “That’s an understatement. I’m surprised--I admit that’s mostly because of my own preconceptions about...well, about you being an Elf. I should know better--and my being from Tevinter! I’m sure I don’t know even half of what I think I do.” Dorian paused. “You didn’t say what happened though. With Maerus and you? Are you still in touch?” Dorian asked it casually, before even really thinking. He realized in the silence that he hoped they weren’t--or at least, weren’t involved. He pushed the thought away. Selfish, stupid. 

Faenar’s expression took on a distant look again. “No. My clan left before the fall--they… weren’t very happy with my… interest in him. And he was planning to leave to train for serving the Chantry. I never--...” Faenar trailed off, clearly in thought. Dorian watched him silently, unsure if he should prompt, change the subject, or just stay quiet.

“He promised me he’d write, you know. It was a couple years before we came near enough the town again I could sneak away and talk to his sister.” Faenar paused again, clearly struggling. He hadn’t shared this part of the story with anyone other than his parents--and then not by choice. “She didn’t like elves, I think. She told me he’d never written. I don’t know if that was true or not. It was years later I tried again--not sure why, honestly. By that time I felt that even if she’d been lying he must have moved on. I had, too, mostly. I just--wanted to know? You know?” Faenar glanced at Dorian, who nodded automatically. 

“I saw his father the next time. He said the same thing--that he hadn’t written anything for me. He… seemed to feel bad about it. I’m not sure. That was a few months before the mage rebellion broke out. After that everything went… you know. You’ve seen what it brought with it.” 

Dorian frowned. This story was taking a turn from bad to worse. “Did he--do you know if…”

“I heard he died--I heard a story about a chantry in the town his father said he was last sent to being burned. Some said mages did it--because they were refused sanctuary. I heard another version it was the templars, because they did give sanctuary to some mages. I… I actually asked Leliana to look into it. She couldn’t confirm which story--but she could confirm the dead.” Faenar rubbed at his knuckles roughly. 

“I’m so sorry,” Dorian said seriously. 

Faenar smiled without warmth. “Thank you.”

The two sat in silence for a few moments; Faenar apparently lost in thought, and Dorian awkwardly, distantly feeling guilty for wishing that Faenar wasn’t attached and then hearing  _ that _ . 

Dorian huffed after it got too much for him to take. “Sorry--I asked you for a distraction and now I think you’re the one in need of a pick-me-up.” 

Faenar shook his head. “That’s alright--I… it was nice to talk about it with someone who wasn’t screaming at me.” 

Dorian frowned. “Wasn’t--what’s  _ that _ mean?” he asked, alarmed. 

Faenar flushed again. “Just--you’re not the only one whose parents don’t approve of his choices… sorry. That sounded like I’m trivializing your situation. I’m not--I just… was trying to say I understand. It’s…” Faenar trailed off. 

“You don’t need to apologize--thank you.” Dorian sat back, arm resting on the chair again. “From the history of humans and elves, I can see why they might object. I was a bit surprised when I first showed up and you  _ didn’t _ hate my guts straight away. But I appreciate it. The world would be more pleasant if people carried fewer grudges around. Easy for me to say I suppose, we won that war.” Dorian frowned. 

“Yes, a long time ago. I never… well. I’m more interested in looking forward, I guess.” 

“Indeed. A much more useful outlook. Can’t do anything about the past--best to press on ahead.” Dorian said, rallying. 

“Well, unless you have time magic.” Faenar said, a slight smile returning. 

Dorian snorted. “Please--I already had to rescue you from time magic gone wrong once; let’s not try for a repeat, shall we?” 


	2. For All to See

“Are you alright? She didn’t get to you did she?” Faenar asked, turning as Mother Giselle walked down the stairs. He’d have to speak to her later; generally he respected her opinions. He was distressed that she would go to Dorian and embarrass him rather than coming to Faener himself, privately, to express her concerns about… whatever she perceived was between them. 

“It’ll take more than thinly veiled accusations to upset me,” Dorian said. Despite his words he could still feel himself warm with anger. It might not be new, but it was still infuriating to have to constantly justify his presence. And now to be fending off rumors about him and Faenar? Well--he couldn’t blame people. Faenar did spend a lot of time with him… and Dorian himself was never shy with a compliment but… Faenar hadn’t told him to stop. Dorian pushed the thought away. Faenar hadn’t done anything untoward either, and his reputation was important, even if Dorian’s own was already in the trash. 

“You aren’t bothered?” Faenar sounded surprised. 

“Why? Yours is the good opinion I care about, not hers.”  _ Not anyone’s but yours _ , he added mentally in a fit of pique. 

Faenar nodded slowly, studying his face. “I...see. Would you--go for a walk?” 

Dorian raised his brows, surprised and a bit unprepared. He was still mentally reviewing his argument. “What? I--alright.” He agreed suddenly. Maybe Faenar  _ was _ bothered by the rumors. He at least would have the decency to discuss how they should deal with it in private, rather than in the tower for everyone to hear. 

Dorian followed Faenar out onto the ramparts a bit reluctantly, mind jumping ahead. Faenar was probably going to say something about how ‘just to be safe’ or ‘I mean no offense’ and then say he needed to watch his appearance, meaning spend less time with Dorian. Which, fair, but… it was still going to hurt. Dorian was isolated enough here as it was. Well… he was starting to break the ice with a few of the ‘inner circle’ as some called them. Sera told him flat out she didn’t like his magic, but she drank with him and laughed at his jokes readily enough once she’d said her piece. Blackwall had been curt at first too, but after some time stuck sharing a tent in the pissing rain of the stormcoast they’d come to appreciate a deck of cards and a shared bottle of warmed, spiced cider. That had been a fun trip, in a way. Dorian smiled to himself at the memory. Even Bull, who Dorian had been initially afraid was going to bash his skull open, had been friendly. Perhaps that was Faenar’s influence. Everyone followed his lead, one way or another. Dorian wondered vaguely if the others would start avoiding him more again once Faenar did. Probably. Well… they were here to save the world, not hold popularity contests. So be it. 

“What are you smiling about?” 

Dorian glanced at Faenar. “Hmm? What? Oh--nothing. Just my natural cheery disposition showing through.” 

Faenar gave his own, softer smile. “Oh? I’m glad to hear it--I was a bit worried back there.” Faenar gestured to a ladder and then preceded Dorian, climbing up into one of the towers which was under repair. 

Dorian hauled himself up after. “For me?” He grunted, pulling himself up into the little landing at the top. “Tsk tsk. You really ought to stop that if you want to quell the rumors the dear Revered Mother is so concerned about.” 

Dorian stood, arms automatically folding across his torso. It was cold enough in Skyhold, up here the wind was positively malicious. 

Faenar was also rubbing his arms. He squatted down to hide behind the wall. “Sorry--I like the view from up here and came up on a whim when I saw they had the ladder fixed--not the best place to talk.” 

Dorian followed suit, teeth already feeling like icicles in his mouth. “Oh it’s lovely--the view--not the cold so much.” 

Faenar stared at him for a moment, then turned away abruptly. Dorian noticed his cheeks were red, but chalked it up to the frigid air. 

“You know--I just… really want to make sure you’re alright. You’re not bothered by the rumors about us?” Faenar asked, looking back at him critically. 

Dorian shrugged, blowing on his hands. “Why should I be? You’re Andraste’s chosen--it’s flattering they’d even think you’d look my way. Like  _ that _ .” Dorian added the last with a wink. “Though maybe they’ve caught you--I know you look enough as it is; I can’t blame you. I am magnificent.” 

Faenar smiled sheepishly and looked away. Dorian always managed to throw him off balance with his easy-going charm. “I want to know what you really think Dorian.” 

Dorian tilted his head. “Of what?” 

“The rumors about us--I mean… what do you _ really _ think of them.” 

“I’ve just said,” Dorian insisted. 

Faenar raised his head to look Dorian in the eye again, uncertain. He frowned. “I… Dorian, can I tell you something and you promise you won’t get mad at me for it?”

Dorian frowned for just a moment. 

Faenar stumbled on. “I just--you’re a good friend, and I don’t want to lose that. So if you… you don’t like what I’m about to say let’s just pretend I didn’t. Can you?” 

Dorian closed his eyes for a moment, putting on his smooth, practiced front of comfort. “Of course. You’ll always have my friendship, Inquisitor,” he smiled. 

Faenar didn’t exactly look relieved, but he nodded. “Dorian--I… I like you. Like… _ like  _ like. Like  _ that. _ And I don’t know how you actually feel about me--I mean, I know you flirt but I can’t tell if you mean it or just… like flirting. But I really like you and… I wouldn’t mind if some of the rumors about us  _ were _ true. But if you don’t feel that way I don’t want to make things awkward I just… I value your company and…” Faenar stopped, watching Dorian’s face which was the picture of surprise. He had not at all expected those to be the words out of Faenar’s mouth. 

Dorian found himself chuckling nervously after a moment. “What--you’re serious?” he asked, honestly amused at Faenar’s earnest, worried expression. 

Faenar nodded silently. 

Dorian blinked, eyes stinging a bit from the dry, cold air. “I… I’m--sorry, you’ve managed to catch me rather flat footed.” Dorian recovered smoothly, pushing the odd sensation of butterflies in his stomach aside. He smiled. “My dear Inquisitor likes to play with fire it seems. Alright--hang what anyone says--I like  _ like _ you too.”  _ More than you should _ , a voice in his head whispered. It was silenced for the moment as Faenar’s face lit up with a relieved, happy smile. 

“Really?” 

“I might be a tease, but I’m not a liar,” Dorian said. 

Faenar’s smile settled onto his face, and he just stared affectionately at Dorian for a moment. Dorian found himself balking under the look, and so he decided to act. He leaned forward and kissed Faenar, closing his eyes to escape the look. It was… too deep. He wasn’t sure what it meant. Faenar returned the kiss, one arm tentatively coming up and wrapping behind Dorian’s shoulders. Dorian’s efforts to push any serious thoughts away resulted in the silliest rising to the surface and being given voice. He pulled away, realizing a moment too late he hadn’t really wanted to. “I think this is the coldest kiss I’ve ever had. My lips must be blue.” 

Faenar laughed, light and bubbly and nervous, somehow oddly matching the tingly feeling of Dorian’s insides just now. “It is cold--we should go back inside. Imagine if they found us frozen up here like this--what the rumors would look like then?” 

Dorian laughed outright, standing and helping Faenar up with one hand. Faenar glanced at him, something Dorian couldn’t name in the look it was so brief, and then released his hand, moving to the ladder. They both clambered back down and out onto the ramparts again. Dorian gave a tight smile to one of the Inquisition guards a few feet down the walkway. 

“Dorian?” 

Dorian stopped, turning back. “Hmm?” 

“Before we go back inside--I wanted to check. Seeing as you kissed me first, is it fair game for me to kiss you whenever I feel like it?” Faenar asked, feeling a bit like his legs were wobbly. 

Dorian laughed. “Oh yes, you have my full permission to kiss me whenever you’d like.” Dorian gave his words a bit a flourish, confident that with the wind no one down the rampart could hear him. 

Faenar smiled and stepped forward, taking Dorian’s hands in his he leaned up and kissed him again right on the spot. Dorian was too startled to respond, but fortunately Faenar let himself drop back to stand flatly on the wall again before noticing. 

Dorian covered his surprise with another smile. Here? Faenar had just kissed him right here--in full view of that guard--and probably a couple more. There had been a pair posted at the doorway to the rampart. Was he mad? He said he wanted some of the rumors to be true--well! 

Faenar was still smiling, he hadn’t stopped since Dorian had kissed him. “Come on, I’m cold so you must be nearly frozen.” 

Dorian nodded dumbly, turning as Faenar started to move. He was still holding one of Dorian’s hands as they walked by the guards and back indoors. He  _ was _ mad. 


	3. Ironically, Spiders

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> These drabbles are not being posted in chronological order in case it's not obvious. This chapter (3) happens before 1&2.

Faenar frowned as he rubbed the stick in his hands against the one braced on the ground, moving quickly to create enough friction to start a fire. 

“You know, I can do that for you faster.” Dorian dropped into a crouch next to him. 

Faenar looked up, pulled from his thoughts. “What?” He was reasonably certain from his conversations with Dorian that the man was not a camper. He would be surprised indeed if he could start a fire faster than Faenar himself could. 

Dorian tilted his head slightly, indicating Faenar should move back. Faenar stood and stepped back, raising an eyebrow. “Go ahead.” 

Dorian raised one hand and after just a moment, a little streak of flame appeared in the pile of sticks and larger bits of branches Faenar had piled up. Faenar snorted, mostly at himself. Of course--he’d seen Dorian use fire magic. None of the mages in his clan had been proficient with it so it wasn’t part of his expectations of mages. 

“Voila. We have heat.” 

“Thank you. Care to conjure up dinner while you’re at it?” 

Dorian put his hands on his knees and pushed himself up. “Oh I don’t think anyone would much enjoy it if I conjured anything for dinner. Necromancer, remember? And before you say it, no, I can’t cook either. Not my forte. I’ll leave that to you.” 

Faenar turned and pulled some supplies from their bags. He’d already cleaned a pair of rabbits he’d shot before they’d stopped for the evening and they had some root vegetables they’d found in an abandoned barn. Faenar wasn’t always the on the spot cook when they were out--it depended largely who was present--but between Dorian, Vivienne and Cassandra he was decidedly the best choice. 

Dorian rolled up a blanket and sat on it in some effort to make a chair and keep himself from getting too dirty. It was a lost cause after the day they’d had--cave diving wasn’t generally glamorous work. Faenar stood with the cooking pot, glancing at Dorian as the man attempted to coax his hair back into place despite the damp weather. Faenar blushed slightly when he realized he was staring and mumbled something about going to get water. He walked between Cassandra and Vivienne, still bickering mildly about the best place to put their tents, and returned a few moments later from the stream. 

Dorian had given up on his appearance for the moment and was gingerly trying to poke another stick into the flames. Faenar set the pot down and started cutting meat off the rabbits to add to it. Dorian made a slight face, but only for a moment. 

“You’re quick at that.” 

“Lots of practice.” Faenar said blandly. 

“It doesn’t bother you?” 

Faenar looked up for a moment. “No? Why, does it bother you?” 

“Just a bit. I prefer not to see my food before it’s plated up. I was just wondering because--no matter.” 

“What?” Faenar chuckled. 

Dorian got a mischievous look in his eye. “Sure you want to know? Might be a bit embarrassing.” 

“For who?” Faenar asked, genuinely confused. 

“You, of course. I’ve nothing to be embarrassed about ever. Just you seemed a bit put off earlier today in the caves when we were having to deal with the remains of those cave spiders. I thought maybe you weren’t comfortable with dead things.” 

Faenar made a face now, a series of them actually, before looking back down and continuing his work. “I don’t mind most dead things.” 

“Just spiders?” Dorian asked. Faenar wanted to be annoyed. As Dorian had warned, it was a bit embarrassing. But something in Dorian’s tone was friendly, disarming. Faenar didn’t feel he needed to be as defensive as he might’ve been otherwise. He sighed. 

“I just don’t like them. Dead or alive. I know--I know it’s silly and cliche. It’s not like I haven’t had to deal with them before. Plenty of times. I’ve tried to get over it. I tell myself every time I run into them ‘this time will be different’ but then… they just make me uncomfortable. I can’t help it.” 

Dorian smiled. “I feel that way about plaidweaves. We all have those little things that bother us.” 

Faenar laughed outright, drawing attention from the others for a moment. He didn’t notice. “Not sure that’s quite the same thing, but thank you.” 

Dorian adjusted his position. The blanket he’d made into a makeshift chair wasn’t really working. “Not at all. Now that I know, I shall endeavor to dispatch any future spiders we encounter with utmost haste so we might minimize the time you should be forced to look upon them.”

“Should I promise to do the same to any plaidweave we run into?” Faenar asked, hands moving quickly as he moved on to chopping carrots. 

“Sera might turn her wrath on you if you do. Better not to risk it. I shall endure,” Dorian said, voice heavy with mock gravity. 

Faenar smiled. “Very brave of you.” 

“I know. The sacrifices I make for the Inquisition.” 


	4. Returned

Dorian took off his boot, shaking some of the sand out of it before strapping it back into place. He was exhausted, but he wasn’t getting ready to sleep yet. He felt he couldn’t--not until he’d actually touched Faenar, made sure he was really… real. He could hardly believe what he’d seen. That--was it truly an archdemon?--had attacked the Inquisitor and his party high on the ramparts. There’d been an explosion and the whole damned walkway had collapsed. Watching it, Dorian had felt like he was seeing his whole world crumble. The Inquisitor--Faenar--if he died they were all lost. More than that though, Dorian had felt… he could hardly describe it. He knew, he  _ knew _ it was a mistake to fall in love with him. He knew it couldn’t end well. One way or another. Death for one or both of them was just too likely. And then he was there, watching it happen from a distance, unable to even say goodbye. No one could survive that fall. But then, that great flash of light--what was it?

They’d kept fighting, out of fear mostly. Fight or die--but really it was over. Without the Inquisitor--who else could stand against Corypheus? And then, through that damned rift in the courtyard, they’d come back. All of them. Faenar last of all, and shut the thing behind himself like it was nothing. And there he stood, apparently unharmed. It was… miraculous. Unbelievable. Dorian still didn’t quite believe it even now. He’d been up on the wall at the time, unable to get close to speak to Faenar before he was pulled aside into talks with the remaining Warden leaders, such as they were, and Hawke. They were still discussing things, and Dorian knew he couldn’t sleep until they were done no matter how tired his body was physically. He had to be sure--had to hold Faenar and really be sure he was safe. 

Dorian looked up at a noise, disappointed when he realized it was just Blackwall. He pushed that aside. He was happy to see the man, and maybe he could allay some of Dorian’s fears. “Blackwall--how are you?” 

Blackwall looked up, apparently he’d also been in deep thought. “What--ah. I’m… alright. You?” 

Dorian waved a hand dismissively. “I didn’t go tumbling into the fade this evening, I’m fine.”

Blackwall’s expression went from serious to warm, guessing at Dorian’s thoughts. “He’s alright--I mean, well. You waiting up for him?” 

Dorian frowned and nodded. 

Blackwall gave one slow, approving nod of his own. “Good. Could probably use some grounding after that. He shouldn’t be far behind me.” Blackwall walked over and clapped Dorian’s shoulder once. “Night.” 

“Good night,” Dorian answered quietly. It was strange, he wasn’t sure when exactly things had changed but… he seemed to have more friends within the Inquisition than just Faenar these days. Maybe little miracles just cropped up around the Herald, drawn to him like flowers to the sun. Dorian smiled to himself distantly as he shook out the other boot, though his expression faded back to a worried, furrowed brow by the time Faenar actually slowly climbed the stairs to the section of mostly intact rooms they were going to sleep in before heading back to Griffon Wing Keep tomorrow. 

Dorian pushed himself up, crossing his arms partly in mock annoyance and partly due to the chill of the night air. Faenar spotted him and gave him something like a smile, but he was clearly done in. Dorian’s intended joke died on his lips, and instead he walked over and wrapped his arms around Faenar, who leaned heavily into him. 

“Hi.” 

“You scared the life out of me, you know. I thought you’d died up there and then--you just walk back out of a rift like it’s nothing? Mad bastard. You’re going to be the death of me,” Dorian whispered. 

Faenar raised his hands shakily, wrapping his arms around Dorian’s back. “Please don’t say that,” he said, voice cracking. 

Dorian frowned, thinking of Stroud and Faenar’s words immediately after coming back. It had indeed been a poor choice of words on his part. He tightened his grip on Faenar, subconsciously afraid he might somehow slip out of his grip--out of reality. “Sorry that was--I’m sorry. I’m just… so relieved you’re back. I thought I’d lost you there for a bit and I… don’t do that again, alright?” 

Faenar nodded silently. He could feel a few tears burning at the corners of his eyes; he was overwhelmed; exhausted, guilty, and relieved all at once. There was so much to do, to work through, to explain. He couldn’t face it just now. “I’m tired.” 

Dorian nodded. “Of course. Come on, there’s bedrolls already laid out.” Dorian turned and guided Faenar back towards the others. Blackwall was already snoring, not even having bothered to get under a blanket. Sera was pulling one up over him. She caught Dorian and Faenar’s eye as they passed and gave them a look that meant they’d catch it if they said anything. The look softened a moment later, but only for a second before she turned and went back to her own spot on the far end of the room. 

Faenar lowered himself to the ground, using Dorian’s arm for balance, and waited for Dorian to sit down next to him. As soon as Dorian sat down Faenar scooted next to him and wrapped his arms around his waist, leaning his head against Dorian’s side. Dorian was a bit startled but didn’t mind, simply tucking his arm across Faenar’s back. “You alright?” 

Faenar shook his head. “Tomorrow? Please.” 

Dorian squeezed his shoulder and leaned forward, pulling a blanket up somewhat successfully over Faenar and most of his own lap. “Get some rest.” 

Faenar closed his eyes and despite his whirling thoughts was mercifully granted sleep swiftly. Dorian settled back against the wall he was leaning on, unsure if he should worry or just be grateful Faenar was back. He opted for a bit of both, staying awake a while longer despite his fatigue and trying to focus on the very real weight and warmth of Faenar against his side. 


	5. Wellspring of Sorrows

Dorian made an irritated sound as he nearly dropped the top book on his stack while trying to shut the door to the Inquisitor’s room in Skyhold. The second door--honestly the little stairway area was just absurd and unnecessary in his opinion. They should really remodel it. Dorian climbed the stairs and greeted Faenar cheerfully, moving to set the books on the large desk. 

Dorian turned, one hand still on the stack of books and the other on his hip, and flashed Faenar a winning smile. “Now, have I told you…” He stopped. Faenar wasn’t smiling, or even looking at him. He was sitting on the bed staring with furrowed brows out one of the windows. 

Dorian drummed his fingers on the books and then walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge of it, drawing Faenar’s attention finally. “You look thoughtful. What’s wrong?” Dorian asked. 

Faenar gave him a tight smile. “Nothing. I was just… thinking.” 

Dorian snorted. “I could tell, hence my question. You’re not a good liar, you know. C’mon, what’re you worried about?” 

Faenar rubbed at his forehead with one hand, reaching out towards Dorian with the other. Dorian took it, kissing his fingers lightly. “I… didn’t use the Well.” 

Dorian nodded with another snort. “Yes--a very good thing, in my opinion. Lady Morrigan may do what she will, but I personally ascribe to the notion that it's never a good idea to ingest unknown magics.” 

Faenar gave him a tight smile. “I agree but…” 

Dorian tilted his head slightly. “But?” 

“That’s not the only reason I didn’t do it. I… didn’t want it.” 

“You say that like  _ not _ being blindly power hungry is a bad thing,” Dorian quipped. 

Faenar looked up fully, not even attempting to acknowledge the joke this time. “Dorian--I’m an elf. I’m  _ Dalish _ . That Well… it contained the knowledge of my  _ people _ ! Possibly some of the last of it--and I didn’t take it!” Faenar pulled his hand away, burying his face in his palms. 

Dorian frowned, unusually quiet. “Well, why didn’t you? Mind you I’m still glad you didn’t, but…” 

Faenar took a shaky breath. “I… I don’t believe in my own gods, Dorian. You know that. I believe in the Maker. I didn’t want--I didn’t want to gain some knowledge that would make me… make me feel like I had to return to the people, Dorian. I didn’t want to be… their prophet, or whatever that Well might have made me to them. So I… I let it be taken by…” Faenar looked up at the ceiling, blinking back tears. “Please don’t take offense at what I’m about to say. But… I let a human take it. She won’t use it to help the people--whatever she’s learned she will keep. I let my people lose another piece of their history--of themselves! Because I didn’t want to deal with it.” Faenar’s voice cracked and he lowered his head, covering his mouth with his hands. 

Dorian’s frown deepened and he reached over, putting a hand on Faenar’s shoulder comfortingly. That… he hadn’t thought of it like that. He could understand why Faenar was upset. He still thought the Well was dangerous--he still was happy Faenar had let Morrigan take it. He admitted part of that was selfishness on his part; he didn’t want  _ his _ Faenar doing anything dangerous if he could help it. He rarely could. Still--he could understand the guilt Faenar was expressing. Dorian wanted to help Tevinter right its path. He could see himself taking risks to do that. Faenar though--he had stepped away from his people almost entirely. He wasn’t trying to ‘right their path’, so much as find his own. It wasn’t always well-received by his family or clan. Religious disagreements had the power to tear the world apart--and Faenar was a living ‘religious disagreement’ to his people, and sometimes within himself. He loved his people, he wanted to improve their lot in the world. At the same time, he didn’t share their beliefs, and what they wanted for themselves wasn’t always something he approved of. It was, frankly, a mess that sometimes Faenar felt it was easier to simply ignore in light of the more immediate issue of trying to save the world from Corypheus. He could be a catastrophic disappointment to his people later. But he still cared. 

“What if I’m wrong, Dorian? What if…” 

Dorian scooted over and pulled Faenar into a hug. “You can’t know everything. None of us can. You can only do your best and try to follow your beliefs.” 

“I’ve hurt my people, Vhenan. I never--I wanted to follow my beliefs but I never wanted that to hurt them!” Faenar sobbed. 

Dorian rubbed his back soothingly. “And what if you had drunk from it? We still don’t know the full extent of what it may do to Morrigan. I say now what I said then--that Well  _ wanted _ someone to drink from it. It was  _ dangerous _ \--and you are no mage. Would it be better for you to risk dying to reclaim history, when you’re needed to save the bloody world right now?” Dorian squeezed Faenar’s shoulder. “I appreciate the loss. I know you want to help your people if you can. You have! You’ve discovered things about their history that were lost to time and returned it to them. If there had been a safe way to preserve that knowledge--without possibly sacrificing yourself--I’d be all for it. And so would you. But you can’t sacrifice your whole future for a bit of history. Save the world--show the world an elf saved them, let that be what your people build their future on.” 

Faenar quieted after a few moments, still blinking away tears as he leaned into Dorian’s shoulder, forehead pressed against his neck. He still felt terrible. He felt like a traitor in a way he never had before. He’d felt conflict between himself and his clan, his family, for years before. They’d had arguments about it before. He’d just… he’d never felt like his actions were hurting anyone. Now he felt like maybe they had, and it was tearing him up. He was angry, too. He felt such guilt, such responsibility to his people even though they’d never supported him. He felt like he was being held hostage by them at times. And then he would remember the good times with his clan, his fellow hunters, even his family when they weren’t disagreeing and he felt guilty again. Everything was so mixed up in his head. He’d felt so certain for months now that he was on the right path, and now suddenly everything was shaky again. Faenar closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around Dorian. It didn’t fix anything, but it reminded him he wasn’t alone. Whatever mistakes he might make, he wasn’t alone. 


End file.
